The Poet, the Gambler

It is said that the glitz and glamor of the city casino rivals the shine of the stars themselves and that humanity, like moths to a flame, is too foolish to resist when the dazzling gates open forth. Humans like to pretend they’re better than the creatures that surround our world, but even those at the top of the chain fall for a carefully placed trap and some cheese. This night in question drew a greater crowd, for word had gone far that tonight would be one to remember forever. Within these gilded halls resided a man, a Great Gambler, known across the world for his odds-defying feats, whether of pure skill, cheating or simply luck. But like all humans, especially those in such a crooked world as this, he held a secret, a secret to his success.

Tonight was to be the grand finale, the magnum opus of his career, a night he had announced for all the world. He flaunted and paraded across the television and newspapers, “come one come all, to see the final daring act of the greatest gambler in the world!”  For you see, though on stage he reveled in this charade of lights, he had grown weary of this life. He had not always lived as the heralded hero in the world of sin. He longed for a simple life, with the only one left he cared for.

When the Great Gambler was a younger man, he lived in the twisted back alleys of the city, ridden with rodents and creeping spiders. At every crook and decrepit pathway hid a gun wielding gangster or conniving thief. But it was in that world of violence that love would blossom, between a man and a woman. The man was a pillar of cunning and charm, a poet with a tongue of silver so sharp he could convince the spiders to bend to part their webs and let him pass between, and the rats to share with him a piece of their cheese. The woman stood as the ice cold queen of the street, the lone empress of all who resided in the alleyway. When she stomped her foot, every criminal in earshot ran as fast as they could, knowing the terror of her anger if they dared stray too close. However, her tyranny was lonely, and deep down she longed for a partner to walk by her side. One day, whether by chance or fate, the poet came face to face with the queen. The queen became mesmerized with the poet’s words and song, and the poet with her confidence and strength. The two fell in love, and from there on they were inseparable.

The two spent their days roaming the streets together hand in hand, and it would soon come that they were expecting a child. From the moment they learned of the child, they were overwhelmed with excitement. However, they worried for the future of the child, growing up in such a place as the twisted alleyways. “Perhaps we should move on,” proposed the poet, “go live a normal life, so we can provide for our child once they are born.” The queen agreed, however a thought came to her. “We’ll need money first, for a place to live and for the food we will eat.” The poet nodded, and the two immediately went to work, the poet singing songs on the bustling streets for change as the queen roamed around the city, looking for construction work across the city. The two worked day and night to ensure their future, and came home each night to the creaking wooden shed they made for a home. When their child was born, the two felt a feeling of joy unlike any before. For the first time in years, a smile sprouted on the queen’s face. Unfortunately, it wasn’t to last.

It was a quiet evening, the queen returning home from a long day of work. As she continued onward, she sensed dozens of eyes watching her every move. Unafraid, she kept walking, however it felt as if something was looming, waiting in the crevices and cracks she couldn’t quite see into. She began to run, hurrying home, twisting down the alleyways hoping to lose whoever was following her, and soon she arrived at the wooden doors of her home. However, before she managed to reach them, from every direction she found herself surrounded . All the cowards who had been too afraid to confront her before, now stood before her, convinced she had softened from her time with the poet. However they were mistaken, and she quickly began ravaging through them, cursing them for attempting to take her away from her family. The first few crumpled like flies, and many others soon ran in terror. However some, whether foolish or bold, stayed to fight. Though she outmatched them in strength and skill, they carried weapons, and before she managed to beat down the last of them, she heard the cocking of a gun, and with a loud bang, she fell over limp. 

Only a few blocks away, the poet heard the gunshot and sprinted home, finding his queen lying on the floor, an inky red pool growing around her. The poet tried everything he could to save her, but though he could sway the spiders and rats to do his bidding, he could not convince her skin to mend back together, or the universe to spare his love’s life. Opening her eyes for the final time, the queen gazed up at her poet and gave one simple request. “Love our child as you loved me. Make sure they are happy, and make sure they remember that they are loved.” With those last words, the queen closed her eyes for the final time.

The poet mourned his loss, refusing to leave his love’s side for hours. However, moved by her words, he rose to his feet, a fire in his heart; a resolve to provide for his child no matter what. Using his song and word once more, he swayed the hearts of the arachnids and rodents  to care for the child while he was away. Though he had success singing in the streets, he knew it would not be enough and began desperately searching for any work he could find. However, while the poet could spin words of pure silver, he had few talents beyond his words. He lacked the strength of a construction worker, the brains of a teacher, nor the skill of a repairman. As each day passed, he grew more desperate for money and work. His desperation eventually brought him to a place he had longed not to have to go, the world of glitz, glamor and shining lights, the towering city casino. 

From the moment he passed the gates, he felt a pair of dark eyes peering into his soul. As he moved from slot machine to roulette table, he would glance over his shoulder, taking a peak at the cloaked figure who creeped closer and closer. Doing his best to ignore the stranger, the poet prayed with each roll of dice and dealing of cards that Lady Luck would be at his side. However as the evening turned to night, he found himself faced only with loss after loss, for his skill as a man of words and heart were met only with trickery and greed in those gilded halls. But just as he began his way out of the casino, defeated, out of thin air appeared the cloaked figure. The poet nearly collapsed out of shock, but as he fell backwards he found an arm steadying him, the figure suddenly beside him. “Now now, careful there,” the cloaked figure in a raspy whisper. With a combination of fear and the night’s frustration, the poet exploded, “Who are you? What do you want with me? Speak, demon!” From beneath the shadowed hood, the poet saw the shine of a toothy smile, and the figure gave his reply. 

“I’d simply like to offer you my help. I’m sure you noticed my stalking. I’m curious, what brings you here to my casino?”

“I have nothing to say to you! Farewell!” cried the poet, trying to rush out the doors, but found himself held back by an invisible force. 

“Now, let’s not be hasty. I have a proposition for you. You long for money, don’t you? It’s written in your eyes, in your face, in the way you walk and gamble, that desperation. You don’t just long for it, you need it. To protect something far more precious than yourself.”

The poet was taken aback. “How could you know that?” 

The figure shrugged and smiled once more, “As I said, it’s written all over you. I have a proposition for you. If you agree, we both get what we want. If you don’t you can walk away freely, and forget this ever happened.”

The poet hesitated. He sensed evil emanating from the figure, a sense of creeping fear, yet at the same time a strange comfort in his words. Perhaps this is how animals in the alleys felt about him. “What is your proposition then?”

The cloaked figure pulled the poet into his office, a room filled with glittering gold and velvet curtains. He lamented how his casino had dwindled in popularity, and he longed for a way to return it to its former glory. He had noticed the poet’s skills of persuasion and charm as he wandered through the casino, and an idea had come to the figure. He would make the poet a star, a gambling hero at his casino. “Join me here, and I will grant you all the money you could wish for. I know how terribly you need it.” Though he was distrustful of the man before him, who remained shrouded in his dusty cloak even in the isolation of his office, his mind had been swayed. At the flick of his fingers, the poet was swept off his feet, and rushed away to be changed, his unwashed hair becoming slicked back and smooth, his worn rags replaced with a strapping suit and tie. As he gazed upon his transformation in the mirror, he no longer saw himself within it. From that moment on, the poet became the Great Gambler.

Though nervous at first, the gambler quickly took to his role as the mystical and unstoppable genius of the casino. His performance was unparalleled, as without effort the right cards would always fall into his hands. Flocks of people from surrounding tables and slot machines would gather around as he, boasting and bluffing loudly, gracefully rolled the dice across the scarlet table to victory. But just as much for the grace and skill of performance, the people gathered to witness his winnings, a seemingly unstoppable and inexplicable miracle of luck. Every pair of dice seemed to roll a 12, each hand of cards a full house, as if all the luck in the world had abandoned everyone but him. During the day, the man would tend to his child, shedding his spotlight persona for a humble father, but come evening, the dazzling Great Gambler would emerge on the casino floors, bathing in the attention and money that flooded to him. It wasn’t long before his reputation spread far beyond the city, as the world turned to televised broadcasts to witness his dramatic games and unbreakable chain of victories.

As days turned to years, the Great Gambler all but forgot his old life of squalor. He had long since moved from the dark streets, into a grand gilded mansion, with not a rat or spider for miles around. Though he spent every free moment he had with his beloved child at home, every night he would leave for the house of dice and cards, sometimes for weeks at a time as he toured the country to spread his glory. At every city he visited, he would spot a shadowy cloaked figure looming in the background, as he drew his next Queen, King or Ace. Perhaps a wish of good luck, he thought, from the man who guided him to a life of wild glory. However, while exciting for a while, as time passed the Great Gambler’s resolve would dwindle and dwindle further. He longed to return to a simple life, to spend his remaining years happily with what he truly cared for. He remembered his queen’s now distant words, to love their child as he had loved her, and lamented at how he had spent more time in the casino than with his own child, who was now nearly 13 years old. And so, 12 years after his debut, the great gambler would announce his final game to the world.

The man, the poet, the Great Gambler, stood in the alleyway to the back of the casino, relishing in his last moment of quiet. “Just one more night, and it’ll all be over.” For his grand finale, he had promised the highest of stakes and highest of challenges, in hopes of satisfying the cloaked figure he had served for over a decade. There was no doubt in his mind when he delivered his grand announcement that the casino owner would be beyond furious. They had seldom spoken or even seen each other beyond the passing audience glances, yet the same aura of fear still penetrated the gambler’s heart whenever he felt those dark eyes on him. He simply hoped that the fame he had garnered and the spectacle of the night would be enough to sate whatever hunger lay behind his gaze. For tonight, he had proclaimed he would “bet all the winnings of my long 12 years in this great final game. From my opponent, I request nothing but the finest skill and bravery.” With a last breath and the thought of his queen and their child in his mind, the gambler opened the door and returned to the world of glitz and glamor.

From the moment he stepped foot in the gilded halls, the roar of applause and the explosion of camera lights consumed his senses. The crowd nearly flooded out of the casino, as people from far and wide had journeyed just to see this one glorious night. For the first time in a long, long time, the Great Gambler was nervous. Nervous that his luck, his skill, his cheating, whatever it was to be called, would falter and come undone. As he stepped onto the stage, where he was to face his final opponent in a game of poker, he gazed upon the crowd, hoping to spot his shrouded benefactor one final time. Yet as hard as he looked, he could not find him. Perhaps it was the flashing lights, or the sheer size of the gathered crowd, but the gambler found it strange that the man who built his career would disappear in its final moments. But that thought would remain in his mind no longer, as he approached center stage to face his final opponent, a man promised to be his greatest challenge yet.

The Great Gambler knew little of his opponent, even now as he sat across the table from him, surrounded by cameras and reporters. He bore fiery, flaming dark hair, wearing a sharp, solid black suit and tie. But greatest of all were his eyes, the obsidian black eyes that seemed to bear into the Gambler’s very soul. For the first time in many years, a twinge of fear had found its way into his heart. Who was this man, who had wormed his way past all the others who wished to face the Great Gambler and stood before him now? There was little time for such questions, however, as soon the battle began.

The game started as normal, the Great Gambler boasting and bragging to his opponent and the watching millions, yet his opponent said not a word, nor moved his gaze. The match continued and continued, the stakes rising higher and higher as both sides won and lost, the tides of balance shifting and turning. The audience sat, wrapped up in the glamorous yet intricate drama, cheering and wailing at each victory and loss at the Gambler’s hands. For hours, they fought, until it came down to one final hand. Though his opponent had fought well, his table now stood bare, only a single chip in his corner. “All in,” the Great Gambler declared, the crowd roaring at his declaration. Looking forward to the crack of dawn and returning to his child, a full house in his hands, he turned his gaze to his opponent, meeting his cold obsidian eyes once more. A smile crawled onto his face, as he set down his cards and the crowd went silent. A royal flush. “So long, old friend,” the figure whispered in a raspy tone.

It is said that the glitz and glamor of the city casino rivals the shine of the stars themselves and that humanity, like moths to a flame, is too foolish to resist when the dazzling gates open forth. The Great Gambler, the Poet, stayed motionless in his chair, horrified, gazing down at the death sentence presented before him as the figure stood up, and put on his dark cloak once more. For like all who find themselves lost in its gilded halls, the man could never escape this world of sin and chance. In those last moments he thought of his child, his queen, the spiders and rats he had tamed in the alleys all those years ago. Perhaps he was no better than the animals himself. He thought of the cloaked figure before him, who had wrapped him into his web so tightly he could never escape. Like all humans, especially those in such a crooked world as this, the Great Gambler, the poet, had fallen and burned. He had dealt with the devil and lost.